


Untitled 69

by thedeathchamber



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Falling In Love, First Dates, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Meet-Cute, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-05-30 19:39:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6437638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedeathchamber/pseuds/thedeathchamber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Louis go on a first date.<br/>Ft. ice cream, undue competitiveness, silliness, alcohol, oversharing, a creaking mattress, and an excess of fond.</p><p>Or, Getting stood up by his blind date might be the best thing to ever happen to Harry. </p><p>Disclaimer: There is, in fact, no 69ing in this story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled 69

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Justanotherlarry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justanotherlarry/gifts).



> The prompt was: Desperate Harry was supposed to meet his blind date to the movies, but the date never came.  
> Louis breaks up with his boyfriend after another fight, and when he enters the cinema and sees the curly haired guy holding back tears he can't help himself but interfere and ask him out right there to go and see a movie with him. Romance ensues.
> 
> This is essentially, fluff. It has a tiny hint of angst, because apparently that's who I am as a person- but it's mostly fluff. There's lots of flirting and first date fun, and a bit of sex with additional morning-after cuteness.  
> Liam makes an appearance via phone. Niall and Zayn are there in spirit. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope it at least comes somewhat close to what you were hoping for, Justanotherlarry. Enjoy!
> 
> [minimangafan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MiniMangaFan/pseuds/MiniMangaFan) was kind enough to beta this for me! <3

Harry slid lower in the smooth plastic seat, stretching out his legs to stop himself from slipping right out of the chair. He shook out one foot that was on the verge of falling asleep, staring at his favorite brown suede ankle boots with a fresh wave of gloom as he noticed just how worn they looked – it wouldn’t be long before he had to give them up, and the thought depressed him. Another pair of boots come and gone and Harry was as alone as ever.

He glanced up at the clock in the middle of the shopping centre, which he could just see from his seat at the café right outside the cinema: he had been waiting for three quarters of an hour.

He slurped the last bit of milkshake through the straw, cradling the empty plastic cup in his hands. He had to accept the fact that he’d been stood up. He probably should have accepted it half an hour ago and just gone home, instead of waiting around like an idiot and compulsively checking his phone every two minutes.

His phone lay on the low table now: screen black, silent.

Nick had insisted it would be fun when he told Harry he’d set him up on a blind date. Harry hadn’t expected much – hadn’t _let_ himself expect too much; definitely not for the love of his life to show up... but he had hoped for the bloke to at least _show up_.

The thought made his eyes start to sting and his throat close up and – fuck, he was not going to start crying in the middle of the mall. He thought he deserved a drink - an expensive colourful cocktail with as much alcohol as fruit juice – except it was just gone eight on Tuesday evening, and getting drunk in the mood he was in would lead to an embarrassing number of blubbering calls to friends and family, begging them to reassure him that he would find love someday, as well as a host of Instagram pictures with pathetic captions – hopefully his private Instagram and not his official work account. Not an attractive prospect.

Harry let out a trembling sigh and picked up his phone.

 _‘no show’,_ he typed into his chat with Liam. He didn’t hit send, though, thumb hovering over the button. He caught sight of a handsome young man walking toward him and his heart rate sped up. Could it be? Hadn’t Nick said he’d be wearing a blue shirt? Or was it green? Then a young girl went up to him and kissed him as he put his arm around her.

Harry hit send, lip wobbling as he waited for Liam to text back. The reply came almost immediately.

_‘awwww, h. thst sucks. what a duffle bag’_

Harry snorted with laughter in spite of himself.

_‘duffle bag?’_

_‘douche bag’_ There was more typing before Harry could reply. _‘come hve a drrrink w me an Soph. we just got uut of work’_

Harry hesitated, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear and massaging the back of his neck. Liam was bound to spend the night trying to cheer Harry up instead of enjoying himself, and Harry didn’t want that.

_‘thanks lima, but i’m gonna head home. see you later’_

He buried his phone in his pocket and rubbed his eyes as they started to sting again. He could feel the pressure in his chest mounting as he struggled not to start crying, hiding his face in his hands.

“Hey, you alright there?”

Harry jumped at the sudden voice right next to him, then almost choked on his own saliva when he saw the boy crouching next to him. He had very blue eyes, open wide with obvious concern, framed by the longest set of eyelashes. His lips were very pink, and slightly parted as he stared at Harry.

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” Harry said, straightening up in his chair. He cleared his throat. “Thanks.”

The boy tilted his head to the side, peering at Harry skeptically. “You sure? I haven’t seen such a sad face sitting at this table since a birthday party of six-year olds missed their showing of _Frozen_.”

Harry couldn’t quite contain his grin, though he tried to keep his tone serious. “That’s terrible.”

The boy nodded solemnly.

“It does put things in perspective,” Harry added.

They both smiled at each other, and Harry felt warmth spread through his chest, displacing the uncomfortable about-to-start-crying feeling that had been plaguing him for the last hour.

The boy bit his lower lip, revealing sharp little teeth. “I gotta confess... I lied – it wasn’t a bunch of little kids, it was my friend, Zayn. He took too long doing his hair and we missed the film.”

That startled Harry into his loud honking laughter – which made him clap a hand over his mouth in embarrassment. To his relief, the boy just smiled at him, going apple-cheeked with half-moon eyes that just emphasized how thick and long his lashes were.

“Much better,” the boy said. “It’s bad for business, having people moping around.”

“You work here?” Harry asked.

The boy grimaced, raising his hand from his lap holding a cloth rag, and tapping the name tag with the cinema logo on his chest with one finger: ‘Louis’.

“D’you get free popcorn?” Harry asked, in a lame attempt to make Louis smile again.

Louis’ huff of laughter wasn’t quite what Harry was looking for. “No free popcorn, and employee discounts are just for matinees, which I can never go to because I’m working.”  He shook his head, wrinkling his nose, before his face relaxed into a small smile. “Sorry, it’s been a long day. Long month.”

Harry winced. He had never struggled to pay rent, and he knew how lucky he was to be able to live as he did, combining his personal photography with taking pictures at gigs and music festivals. He fiddled with the ring on his finger, the milkshake roiling in his stomach at the thought that Louis had tried to cheer him up and Harry had ended up upsetting him.

“I used to be a baker... and you can’t sell pastries that are burned or anything, obviously, but whatever didn’t sell you could take home. And I, um, may have burnt the corners off a few pastries... on purpose. Just an idea,” Harry rambled, not quite sure whether it would make Louis laugh or make him think Harry was a complete idiot.

Louis stared at him for a moment that seemed much too long to Harry, then chuckled, propping his elbow on the table and looking up at Harry with a smile.

“I’ll pass on the burnt popcorn, but keep talking, Curly. Turns out you’re a bad boy behind those dimples?”

Harry grinned, face a little hot. “That life is behind me now. I bake my own pastries now– not burnt.”

Louis laughed, but when he moved to cover his mouth with the back of his hand he had to unstick his elbow from the table.

His brow creased in a look of distaste. “Sticky,” he said, licking his thumb and rubbing at the spot on his elbow, tongue peeking out from between his teeth.

Harry bit his knuckle. God, Louis was cute.

Louis got to his feet so that Harry had to look up at him, though he could tell Louis wasn’t very tall.

“Anyway. Feeling better?” Louis asked him, pulling at the bottom of his red uniform T-shirt.

Harry ducked his head, glancing up at Louis, feeling a little sheepish. “Yeah, thanks.”

Louis’ eyes flitted over Harry’s face before he looked away with a soft cough. “Then my work here is done,” he said, wiping the table down with a flourish.

Harry fiddled with the straw on his empty milkshake cup. “Best customer service ever. I should talk to your manager, recommend you for employee of the month. Do they do that here?” he babbled.

Louis slapped him in the arm with the cleaning rag. “Only if you want to get me in trouble. Not exactly paid to sit around and talk to customers... no matter how fit they are.”

The last part was said under his breath, but it made Harry fight back a huge, embarrassing grin. “Thanks for neglecting your duties and talking to me.”

Louis smiled at him, twisting the rag in his hand. “No problem.”

Neither of them moved or said anything for a long moment.

“Um.” They both started to speak at the same time, then laughed.

Harry took a deep breath. “Um, d’you want to get a drink?”

Louis raised an eyebrow. “Going drinking on a Tuesday? That bad, is it?”

Harry flushed. He’d asked the first thing that had come to mind. All he wanted was the chance to maybe get to know Louis.  “We could get something to eat instead?”

Louis bit his lip. “What’s your name?”

“Harry.”

“Look, Harry-”

Harry’s stomach clenched; stood up and rejected on the same night. He was going to crawl into bed and not surface until Friday – and that because he had a concert to cover.

Louis grinned at him and nudged Harry’s foot with his own. “I was _going_ to say... Look, Harry, I’d love to, but there’s still twenty minutes until my shift ends.”

Harry let out a small laugh of relief. “Oh, I don’t mind waiting.’

“You sure?”

Harry didn’t think he was imagining the hopeful lilt in Louis’ voice.

He watched Louis flit around cleaning the dining area in record time, before ducking behind the counter of the snack bar. When Louis didn’t reappear after a few minutes, Harry decided to visit the bathroom while he waited for him to finish his shift.

He fixed his hair, splashed some water on his face, and gave himself a bit of pep-talk before heading back out. A warning to take care not to stare too much, not matter how pretty Louis was, and to keep himself from blurting out anything too weird that might scare him off.

When he got out of the bathroom, Louis was standing by the table Harry had been sitting at before. He’d thrown on a short jean jacket over his work T-shirt and he had his hip cocked as he leaned against the table, phone in one hand while he fixed his fringe with the other.

Harry took a deep breath and wiped his hands on the front of his jeans, clearing his throat as he walked over to him.

Louis looked up. “Oh, I thought you’d left.”

Harry glanced at the clock, wide-eyed. “No! Of course not. I... You said twenty minutes,” Harry stammered.

“I snuck out,” Louis said with a wink. “C’mon then, let’s get outta here.”

Once they were out of sight of the cinema, walking down the aisle between the different shops, Louis pulled a handful of mini chocolate bars out of his pocket and transferred them to Harry’s cupped hand, which made Harry giggle.

“Danielle spilled soda all over the counter, so we can’t sell these,” Louis explained.

“ _Danielle_ spilled the soda?”

Louis nodded, lips twitching. “She’s new. Good with customers, but still figuring out everything else.”

“Brunette with a permanent smile on her face?  I think she sold me the milkshake.”

“She does smile all the time, it’s like she’s on the telly,” Louis said, unwrapping one of the chocolate bars. “She looks a bit like my sister, actually.”

“I’ve got a sister too!” Harry said, jumping at the chance to learn a bit more about each other.

Louis chuckled as he stuffed the chocolate back in his pocket. “I’ve got five, and a little brother. All younger.”

“That must be so great,” Harry sighed wistfully. “I love Gemma and I’d have loved to have more siblings. How old are they?”

Louis smiled, munching on the chocolate. “The youngest twins turned one a few weeks ago.”

“Babies!” Harry cooed, grinning wide. “I love babies.”

Louis raised his shoulders when he giggled, looking at him like he thought Harry was a little strange, but not in a bad way. He pulled out his phone. “I’ve got a million pictures, if you wanna see?”

Louis hadn’t been exaggerating: he had _a lot_ of pictures. His family was adorable, and it was obvious how close they all were. Harry told him about Gemma and his mum in turn as they walked around the mall.

Harry came to a stop next to the escalators; all the eating places were in their current level. “Um, should we have dinner?”

“You had a feast in your hand, Harry.” Louis clucked his tongue.

Harry shook his head with a pretend frown. “Now you’ll tell me you have ice cream for dinner.”

Louis gasped in mock outrage. “Definitely! Ice cream for dinner is only surpassed by cereal for dinner.” Louis put on a thoughtful face. “Gummy bears are good too.”

Harry clasped his hands together as he laughed. “Cupcakes for dinner.”

Louis raised his eyebrows. “ _Quirky._ ”

The next moment they both burst into laughter. It felt warm and comfortable, and Harry couldn’t quite keep the grin off his face as they decided where to eat.

They ended up at McDonald’s, because Louis was on a budget and he refused to let Harry treat him to dinner, no matter how much Harry insisted.

‘You see that cupcake store over there, I’m going to buy a stupidly overpriced cupcake and stuff it in your mouth if you don’t stop insisting, Harry.’

Harry had given up after that.

 

They sat at a booth and Harry was thrilled when Louis slid into the seat next to him instead of sitting across.

“People are going to think I work here,” Louis said, looking down at his shirt after dipping a nugget in sauce.

Harry laughed. “You’re not wearing the name tag anymore, though.”

“That’s true. No name tag, no responsibilities.” Louis nudged Harry’s knee under the table. “So what is it you do? Besides loitering?”

Harry mock glared at him, and stole one of his French fries in retaliation. To his surprise and delight, Louis just dumped both of their fries in a pile before stuffing a couple into Harry’s mouth.

Harry let them hang out like walrus teeth, and Louis rolled his eyes, but laughed.

“I’m a photographer. I cover music gigs and concerts, mostly. I do some personal photography, too,” Harry explained.

Louis demanded Harry show him his Instagram that second to see his work, so they scrolled through some of it while Louis fed Harry chips. Harry was surprised at how good an eye Louis had for composition and color.

When Harry went back to his burger, they talked about concert experiences and music. It turned out they had quite a bit of music in common, but also enough difference in musical taste to make for interesting conversation.

Once he’d finished his meal, Harry excused himself to go wash his hands, but instead went to get them an ice cream.

Louis gave him a look when Harry plopped back into his seat and set the ice cream with two spoons on the table before them.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Harry said with a chuckle.

Louis shook his head but grabbed a spoon. “Sneaky, Harold. I should have known, after what you told me about your dark past as a baker boy.”

Harry grinned, knocking their feet together under the table. “Thanks.”

Louis laughed, and hooked their ankles together to keep Harry still. They ate in companionable silence for a bit, sneaking glances at each other and smiling.

“What about you?” Harry asked, taking a sip of his water. “You said you had another job?”

Louis hummed with the spoon in his mouth. “Bus boy in the morning three days a week. At the cinema in the evening. Valet parking on weekends.”

“Oh.”

The way Louis said it, he didn’t seem very happy about his employment situation. And it did sound exhausting, juggling several jobs.

Louis made a face. “I’ve been through the full spectrum of minimum-wage jobs. The best was at ToysRUs.” He clapped a hand on Harry’s thigh. “Which reminds me, I’ve got Niall’s card for the arcade. He likes to go and show off at Guitar Hero, so he has a bunch of credit. Want to go?”

Harry had been to an arcade a few times with his mates from school, but not since he turned fourteen. It was pretty much how he remembered it: flashing, multicolored lights and constant, loud noise. There weren’t any children, though, as it was a school night, and the arcade at the mall seemed to cater to a more grown-up public.

The games were the same, however, and Harry hadn’t got any better at them. He embarrassed himself spectacularly at the Arcade Hoops, but he would have done much better at skee ball if Louis hadn’t been distracting him.

“That’s sabotage,” Harry said with a pout as the last ball scored a disappointing ten points. Louis giggled as he fixed the collar of Harry’s shirt back into place. “Your ability to focus is impressive, to be honest,” he said, patting Harry’s chest, fingers lingering as they slid down the smooth fabric.

Warmth bloomed in Harry’s stomach at the touch. “You’re very distracting,” he breathed.

“Thank you.” Louis’ answering grin was playful, with a hint of bashfulness that made the butterflies in Harry’s stomach worse than ever.

“You’re welcome.” Harry replied with mock seriousness, although his face wouldn’t cooperate, and he could feel the grin threatening to split his face wide open.

Harry lost at air hockey in the end, but it was a close game, both of them playing with exaggerated concentration, while keeping up a nonsensical voice-over commentary. After a few games, though, Harry got tired of having a table between them. In a fit of daring, he took hold of Louis’ hand, and was thrilled when Louis let Harry lead him over to the Mario Kart machine.

It was a multiplayer machine with four seats, and Harry and Louis joined a couple who had been playing each other for a new game between the four of them.

Harry was actually quite good at Mario Kart, and Louis was brilliant at it. Louis won the first race, but in the second round he stuck around Harry, keeping his cart from falling into traps and pushing him into boosters. He winked at Harry after he pushed Player 2 off course, leaving Harry free to cross the finish line.

The girl shot them an annoyed look. “We’re not in team mode!”

Louis ignored her, and did the same thing in the next race. And the next.

When Harry crossed the finish line in first place for the fourth time, the girl’s friend jumped from the chair with a curse. “You two are impossible.” He turned to glare at Louis, “It was a free-for-all and you let him win.”

Harry got to his feet with a frown to stand next to Louis.

Louis leaned back in the chair and raised his eyebrows at the man. “Yes, I did. And?”

The man shrugged. “Nothing,” he said, raising his hands and offering Harry a conciliatory nod. “It’s just bloody unfair.”

Louis rolled his eyes as the couple walked away. “What a sour puss.”

“What a dickhead,” Harry said at the same time.

Louis threw his head back when he laughed, and Harry couldn’t take his eyes off him.

“Some people just don’t know how to lose,” Louis said as he hopped off the chair.

“You’re not a sore loser then?” Harry asked, watching Louis fix his hair while glancing at his reflection on the screen.

Louis turned around and blinked at Harry. “I never lose.”

Harry giggled. “That’s because you cheat.” Louis opened his mouth but Harry beat him to it. “And I almost beat you at air hockey.”

“ _Almost_ being the operative word,” Louis said, leaning against the game control panel and looking up at Harry, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. It was probably an unconscious gesture, but Harry couldn’t help himself from glancing down at Louis’ mouth.

Louis raised an eyebrow at him even as he pressed his lips tight in an obvious effort not to grin. “Harry?” he prompted, reaching out to touch Harry’s hip with the tips of his fingers.

As though Louis had pulled him in with that brief touch, Harry stepped closer, heart racing all of a sudden. “You’re being distracting again,” he said honestly.

Louis’ laughter was a little breathless, and Harry was considering just throwing all caution to the wind and going in for a kiss, when Louis’ gaze shifted to something behind Harry.

“Oh, look! It’s free!”

He sidestepped Harry and rushed off to another machine, leaving Harry to follow.

“How about it?” Louis asked with a little shimmy when Harry joined him in front of the machine.

Harry stared at the Dance Dance Revolution machine with undisguised apprehension, then turned to Louis. “I’m a great dancer in my head. Not so much in real life.”

Louis laughed and pulled him onto the platform. “Let’s find out who’s worse then.”

Harry managed to follow the pattern for a bit, but all too soon he started hitting the wrong pads and missing the signals. And then his legs got tangled up and he tripped over his feet, falling right off the platform. He felt the tug on his shirt as Louis tried to grab him, but he fell on his arse all the same.

Louis jumped off and knelt next to him. “Are you all right? Harry?” he asked, his face torn between amusement and concern.

“I’m not hurt,” Harry said, letting Louis help him to his feet. “But I’m not sure I’ll survive the humiliation.”

Louis covered his mouth with his hands, laughing at Harry. “You might want to stick to dancing in your head,” he teased.

Harry shook his head in an exaggerated gesture of dejection, which brought about another fit of giggles. Right then and there Harry decided that making Louis laugh was without a doubt one of the best feelings in the world.

He insisted that Louis have another go, and cheered him on while he held Louis’ jacket to his chest, taking the opportunity to let his eyes linger over his body: the dip of his waist and the curve of his hips. And his arse. Louis had a really great arse.

When Louis jumped off the platform he was sweating, and grinning so wide that it emphasized the crinkles by his eyes. He scoffed at Harry’s praise, but didn’t stop smiling all the way to the redemption store.

 

Louis and him walked around the store pointing out the most ridiculous items and making each other laugh. Harry laughed until he snorted at the one-act play Louis set up with some Ninja Turtle action-figures, and they almost spilled over a bowl of glow-in-the-dark marbles while making two plastic dinosaur figurines hump each other the length of the shelf.

Harry got a long stare from a couple of middle-aged women who caught him messing around with a banana mobile phone handset.

His phone beeped just after the shop assistant broke off their foam finger duel. Harry fished his phone out of his pocket while Louis wandered off to check out the hair accessories.

_'hey harvey. nick insisstd i txt u. srry cldn’t make it. some otherr tiem mybe?'_

It was stupid, really, because him not showing up had led to Harry meeting Louis, and he didn’t regret it for an instant, but it still kind of hurt, and it kind of pissed him off too.

It must have shown on his face because when he looked up from his phone Louis was staring at him with a sympathetic expression.

Harry found himself smiling at Louis as a reflex; he was _so_ glad Nick’s friend hadn’t shown up.

“That looks great,” Harry said, gesturing at the sparkle headband Louis was sampling.

Louis placed a flower crown on Harry’s head. “Thanks. We should get these, and a set of shot glasses? I’ve got tequila at the flat.” He glanced at Harry from beneath his eyelashes, playing with Harry’s hair on his shoulder. “If you – if you want to come over?”

The flat was within walking distance, and neither of them said much as they walked. It was almost midnight on a weeknight, and despite the taste of spring in the air, the streets were quiet and deserted once they left the mall behind.

Although Harry found the courage to put an arm around Louis’ shoulders, his heart was pounding with nerves. He was scared he was getting ahead of himself, making what looked to be a potential one-night stand into something more. The problem was Harry wasn’t a one-night stand kind of person, and he didn’t want a one-night stand with Louis; he wanted more. He’d spent his life wishing and dreaming of connecting with someone the way he had with Louis, and at that moment, he just didn’t want the night to end.

It might have been wishful thinking, but Harry thought Louis looked rather nervous when they reached the block of flats, and both of them kept looking away every time they caught each other’s eyes in the mirror walls of the lift.

 

The flat was in a better area than Harry had expected given Louis’ current employment situation, and when he stepped inside everything made simultaneously more and less sense. The flat had an open concept distribution of living room and kitchen, and a short corridor with three closed doors. It wasn’t too spacious and the wall paint was uneven.

It was also completely bare but for a few pictures on the wall, a worn couch, and a plastic folding patio table, on which were a stack of books, a laptop, and an empty cup of tea.

Louis shrugged off his jacket and threw it on the couch.

“Take off your shoes, if you like,” he said, ambling into the kitchen.

Harry toed off his boots by the door and said nothing. If Louis wanted to pretend like two pieces of mismatched furniture was normal, then Harry wasn’t going to be the one to embarrass him by asking about it.

“I’ve got some pineapple juice. What else do you need for margaritas?” Louis called, invisible behind the open door of the refrigerator.

Harry walked over to the table to inspect the stack of books. They were university textbooks on education, second-hand by the look of them.

“Are you studying to be a school teacher?” Harry asked, as Louis reappeared with a bowl of crisps.

Louis set it down on the table, then pushed at the books so that they teetered precariously in place. “Um, yeah. I’ve got three classes left before I graduate.”

“That’s so great, Louis. I bet you’re amazing with kids,” Harry said, and grinned at Louis when he finally looked up at Harry with a hesitant smile.

“Thanks, Harry.”

They were missing some of the ingredients for margaritas, but they whipped up something similar enough. And slipped in a couple of shots of tequila each while they were in the kitchen. Enough to make Harry’s chest all warm.

“It tastes alright,” Louis said, sipping his drink as they went back to the living room.

Harry hummed in agreement, distracted once again by the smell that permeated the flat, and which he couldn’t quite place even though it was familiar.

“It’s turpentine,” Louis told him when he caught Harry sniffing the air. “What you’re smelling.”

Harry flushed. “Sorry. It’s-”

“It’s fine. I’m so used to it I don’t even smell it anymore.”

Harry sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, then took a long sip of his drink. “You paint?” he asked after a moment, trying to sound casual. He was so curious about what Louis painted, and he couldn’t help but glance down the dark corridor: behind one of those closed doors had to be Louis’ studio.

Louis gave him an assessing look. Harry felt his heart speed up when Louis put down his glass and motioned for Harry to follow him. He opened the first door and switched on the light, stepping to a side to let Harry in.

The room was cramped and smelled even stronger than the rest of the flat, of turpentine and oil painting. There were several canvases on the floor, leaning against the wall, and a work in progress on an easel next to a small working table with brushes and paints.

The paintings were abstract, yet they struck a chord in Harry somehow. There was such passion in them, a full range of emotions conveyed essentially through colour. There was _so much_ colour. It made Harry reconsider his own primarily black and white photography.

It was really beautiful work, and he turned in place staring with his mouth open.

“So this is what you do? You’re an artist?” Harry asked, turning back to Louis.

Louis gave a small shrug. “Mm. I guess.”

Harry couldn’t stop himself from going back to the painting in the corner.

“That one’s _Untitled 69_.”

Harry’s head whipped around, and Louis laughed at his bug-eyed incredulous expression.

“I don’t like giving them pretentious names, like _Rose Sunset on Hope Boulevard_ or something,” Louis explained, leaning with one shoulder against the door frame. “It takes some of the mystery away, I guess, but I just title them what I was feeling when I painted them.”

“That’s very brave of you,” Harry said softly.

“What d’you mean?” Louis asked with a small frown.

Harry ducked his head, chipping at a bit of dry paint on the surface of the table, as he tried to put his thoughts into words. “I mean... In photography, there’s the photographer, the object of the photograph, and the audience. You can find the photographer, but you have to really look for it. It kind of feels like I’m hiding behind the lens, sometimes. But with your painting, you’re... exposing yourself, laying yourself bare to the world’s eyes. And that’s brave of you.”

Louis went up to Harry and, linking their fingers together, led him out of the room. He sat Harry on the couch, handed him his margarita, and sat down next to him, one knee to his chest, his bare foot on the couch.

“There’s nothing wrong with protecting yourself, you know?” Louis said quietly. “It’s the people who abuse other people’s trust who should be ashamed.”

Harry brushed his fingers, a little cool and damp from holding his cold glass, over the arch of Louis’ foot and the prominent bone of his ankle; the strip of skin visible where his rolled-up trousers had ridden up broke out in goose bumps.

“I’ve had people get close to me just to take advantage,” Harry confessed. “And now, when I meet someone, I can’t help but ask myself: what is it this person wants from me?”

Louis tucked his toes underneath Harry’s thigh, and nudged at him until Harry looked up.

“I can tell you right now what _I_ want.”

“Yeah?” Harry asked with some trepidation.

“I want breakfast in bed.”

“Breakfast in bed?” Harry gaped at Louis, who nodded, face serious.

“Proper breakfast, mind you. With the heart-shaped slices of toast and the fresh orange juice. And bacon. And pancakes.”

That was it. Harry had to be dreaming. Louis couldn’t be real.

“I can do that.” Harry managed to say after a moment.

Louis smiled at him, looking so soft and kind it made Harry’s chest ache. “Then we’re good,” he said. Then added thoughtfully, “Though I need a proper bed first.”

“Yeah, um, why don’t you…” Harry faltered. He hadn’t wanted to ask, but since Louis had brought it up himself...

Louis reached over to pat Harry’s elbow, the corners of his mouth twitching. Then he took a long sip of his drink, rolling his shoulders back with a sigh. “I moved here with my ex, and just a month later, we broke up- which, should have seen that coming, but, anyway. I can’t afford this place on me own, right? But, turns out he made an agreement with the landlord, so I'm now sole tenant and I can’t leave without paying or losing the deposit. So I’ve been stuck here for the last four months, and I’ve still got one more to go until I can find something cheaper and quit working three jobs.”

“Shit,” Harry said, smoothing his thumb over Louis’ foot again. He couldn’t fathom anyone leaving Louis, let alone fucking him over like that. He still didn’t understand though: “But why is it so empty?”

Louis snorted. “After we broke up, he came back while I was at work and took just about everything that didn’t come with the flat.” He chuckled at Harry’s horrified expression. “I’ve also sold and donated some stuff. Turns out I buy a lot of pointless crap.”

“What a fucking prick,” Harry said, shaking his head in disgust. He would have been a mess if something like that had happened to him. He _had_ been a mess with Xander and Taylor and Paige, and those were just people he thought were his friends.

Louis huffed with laughter. “Not gonna argue with that.”

Harry gripped Louis’ knee, feeling a little emotional from the alcohol. “You deserve so much better than that, Louis.”

Louis scooted closer to Harry, the couch dipping between them. “You shouldn’t hide, Harry,” he said, voice soft and hoarse. “I’d really like to... to _see_ you.”

And Harry was so gone for this boy he had met just a few hours ago, it was ridiculous.

They both leaned in, so close that Harry could see the specks of green in Louis’ eyes and the little chip in one of his teeth. He was so beautiful, and Harry wanted to kiss him very much.  So much he forgot about the glass balanced on his lap, and spilled watered pineapple juice and tequila on the couch and over his thigh.

“Shit, sorry!” he gasped.

“It’s fine,” Louis assured him. “It’s shit anyway. Why do you think it’s still here?”

After Harry had made an attempt at cleaning the couch, Louis hovering at his shoulder protesting it wasn’t necessary, they decided to watch a film on Louis’ laptop, since Harry had been cheated of his movie night, according to Louis.

‘You were sitting there for ages, Harry. It wasn’t hard to figure out you’d been stood up.’

When Harry told him about Nick setting him up on the blind date and the ‘apology’ text he’d received, Louis was indignant, and suggested several (some mildly alarming) ways in which Harry could get back at Nick for being a terrible matchmaker.

After half an hour, Harry had no idea what the film was even about, distracted as he was by the warmth of Louis’ body curled up next to and half on top of him, as he had his legs thrown over Harry’s.

“Is it just me or is this film absolute rubbish?” Louis piped up.

“I wasn’t really following, to be honest,” Harry replied with a sheepish grin.

Louis stretched to set the laptop on the table, leaving it open: the illuminated screen was the one source of light in the room. Then he leaned back on his elbows against the armrest, tucking his feet under Harry’s thigh and staring at him with an odd, intense look on his face. “It’s kind of late,” he said.

Harry didn’t know what to make of the abrupt comment. He ran his hand through his hair in a nervous gesture before pushing himself off the couch in a slow, reluctant movement. “Um. I should...”

Louis made a grab at his wrist, wide-eyed. “No! No. I mean... you should probably stay the night? The underground’s closed by now.”

Harry wondered if Louis could feel how his pulse was racing. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. I don’t recommend sleeping on this couch, though. It might swallow you up in the night.” Louis bit his lip in an clear effort to hold back a grin. “I might swallow too, but...” he said, voice strangled, before bursting into laughter, covering his mouth with his free hand.

Harry stared at him for a moment, mouth agape, then picked Louis up and threw him over his shoulder.

Louis squealed as Harry carried him to the bedroom. Harry held onto the back of Louis’ thighs and sneaked a feel at his arse while he was at it.

The bedroom was a little larger than the studio, and less crowded. There was a chair in a corner and a plywood closet against the wall. The bed was by the window, which opened onto the building’s light well. It was a twin bed, and nothing more than a mattress on a low metal frame, with short legs that wobbled and creaked when Harry set Louis down. It was going to be a tight fit.

“Can the neighbours see you from here?” Harry asked, peering out the window: the other flat windows were dark and shuttered.

Louis shrugged. “Maybe? I’ve never caught anyone peeping.” He knelt on the bed to unbutton Harry’s shirt then smoothed his hands over Harry’s bare stomach and chest. “I’d be more concerned about the soundproofing,” he said, looking up at him as Harry shrugged out of his shirt.

Harry grabbed two fistfuls of Louis’ shirt, letting his knuckles drag over the soft skin of his stomach as he pulled it up to his chest, getting caught beneath his armpits. He stooped to whisper in Louis’ ear. “Are you loud in bed, then? Is everyone going to know you’re getting some tonight?” he whispered, letting his lips brush against his ear.

Harry felt the stuttering expansion and contraction of Louis’ chest with his breath. Louis shook his head, clinging to the waistband of Harry’s jeans as Harry traced the shell of his ear with the tip of his tongue.

Harry pulled Louis’ shirt over his head, then cupped his face with both hands to kiss him. Louis’ lips were soft moving against Harry’s, while his hands wandered to the low of Harry’s back, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of his jeans and pants to squeeze at his arse.

“Just you and me then?” Harry said, thumbing at Louis’ wet lower lip. “I’m the only one who’s going to hear you? When I’m giving it to you so good you can’t keep quiet?”

Louis tugged Harry closer by the belt loops of his jeans so that their bodies were pressed together, and sucked at the base of his throat, hard enough Harry knew it was going to bruise, and making him feel flushed all over.

“Fuck, Harry,” Louis pulled back and scrabbled at the fly of Harry’s jeans. “Let me see – I can – I can feel how fucking big you are.”

Harry groaned as Louis pulled his cock out and gave him a few tugs.

“How are you even _real_?” Louis said, dragging his thumb over the head of Harry’s cock, coaxing out precome.

Harry stepped back to wrestle out of his jeans while Louis watched him, rubbing the heel of his palm over his own cock.

Once nude, Harry pushed Louis to lie flat on the bed, and tugged off his trousers and pants, throwing them on the floor in a tangled mess with his own clothes. He moved up Louis’ body pressing wet, open mouthed kisses up his thighs, before nuzzling in the crease of his hip, and sucking a bruise over his hipbone.

Louis pulled on his hair, drawing Harry off from licking up the soft, warm skin of his stomach. “Want to kiss you,” he breathed against Harry’s mouth.

Louis tasted like pineapple juice, and smelled like popcorn and a hint of cigarette smoke, and he wasn’t loud at all: he was all breathless gasps and shuddering, quiet moans that made Harry lightheaded as blood rushed to his aching cock. He kept grasping at Harry, short fingernails scratching at his shoulders and back, as Harry murmured against his skin how good Louis tasted, and how gorgeous he was, and just what he was doing to Harry.

“Don’t stop, Harry. So good. Shit. You’re so—” Louis whimpered, clinging to Harry with his legs around his waist while Harry moved on top of him so that their cocks slid together, rubbing against each other’s bellies and balls.

Harry could feel the sweat pooling in the low of his back, and the tug on his scalp as Louis buried his fingers in his hair at the base of his head. A spring of the mattress was digging into his hand, and the bed was squeaking and shaking underneath them, but he was so turned on he couldn’t think beyond Louis: the warmth and weight of his body, the taste and smell of him, the sounds he was making, high-pitched and increasingly desperate.

Louis’ grip on his hair tightened, the pull bordering on painful, and Harry watched him squeeze his eyes shut as he came with a strangled cry, spilling wet and hot between their bodies.

“Fuck, _Louis_. Look at you,” Harry breathed, doing just that, staring at the fan of his eyelashes as he blinked, slow and unfocused; the glistening of his parted lips when his tongue peeked out to wet them.

Louis let his legs drop, spread open at either side of Harry as he rocked against Louis’ hip, cock sliding in the slick of his own precome and Louis’ come.

“Beat you to it,” Louis chuckled, still breathless.

Harry leaned down to kiss him, deep and insistent, until Louis turned his head to the side, gasping.

He reached down to wrap a hand around Harry’s cock. “Can’t believe you have me doing all the work,” he grunted as he jerked him off. “After the day I’ve had.”

Harry’s indignant protest was cut short, breaking into a moan as Louis twisted his hand in a tight upward movement. It wasn’t long before he felt the familiar tightening in his groin and the rush of heat spreading through his body as he came, with a deep moan which caught in his throat; his cock pulsed in Louis’ hand, shooting over Louis’ stomach and up to his chest.

Harry opened his eyes to Louis staring at him with the hint of a smile on his face. “I’m covered in come,” Louis said with a small laugh.

Harry exhaled shakily. “Yeah, you are.”

He had half a mind to lick Louis clean and start all over again, but he could tell Louis was exhausted, eyes heavy-lidded and movements sluggish, so he went over to the bathroom for a washcloth and a glass of water.

“Isn’t lasting longer supposed to be the goal?” Harry mused as he cleaned the mess off Louis. “That means _I_ beat _you_. I won.”

Louis raised his eyebrows. “It’s not a competition, Harry.”

Harry lunged at him with a growl and flattened him to the bed, grinning down at him as Louis giggled. The empty glass rolled on the floor, but neither of them paid it any mind.

 

The bed was small for the two of them, but they fit together somehow. After a few tries, Harry found a comfortable spot to rest his cheek on Louis’ chest, and snuggled up close.

Louis stroked his arm drowsily and mumbled something unintelligible.

“What?” Harry whispered, but the soft and even breathing told him Louis had fallen asleep.

And maybe it should have been uncomfortable, going to sleep with a stranger... except Louis didn’t feel like a stranger at all, and Harry dropped off to the sound of Louis’ heartbeat feeling quite at home.

 

Harry woke up in the morning wrapped tight around Louis’ middle, drooling onto his chest, one foot hanging off the bed because he was too far down the mattress. He would have gone back to sleep but for the discomfort of a full bladder, and the sudden realization that he’d turned off his phone and never told Liam he wouldn’t be coming back to the flat.

Although the bed frame shook alarmingly when Harry scrambled off the bed, Louis just snuffled into the pillow and didn’t wake up.  
  
Liam picked up at the first ring when Harry called him, in the bathroom so he wouldn’t bother Louis.

“Harry! I was so worried. _Fuck._ Mate, you said you were going home, and I get back to the flat and you’re not there. I texted you like a hundred times. I even thought about calling the police, but you can’t until a person’s been missing for twenty-four hours...” Liam went a while before Harry could get in a word to explain.

Shocked silence followed his brief account of the night. “Really? You shagged this bloke you’d just met at the mall?” Liam asked, incredulous.

Harry flushed. “It just kind of happened,” he said honestly.

“I’m not judging you!” Liam assured him. “I’m surprised, is all. It’s not like you.”

Harry shrugged, twisting around to see the faint scratch marks on the back of his shoulders in the bathroom mirror. “I really like him. Like, a lot.”

“I bet,” Liam said with a chuckle. “Only you would score after getting stood up, I swear.”

“It’s not like that,” Harry argued, pouting.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m sure he’s great. But let me tease you a bit, yeah? I had an awful night’s sleep because of you.”

Liam ribbed him about Louis for a few more minutes while Harry puffed and huffed- and stifled his laughter, as well.

“Gotta get back to work. I’ve stretched my coffee break to the limit,” Liam said finally. “Go surprise him with breakfast in bed or something.”

“Um...”

“You’re actually making him breakfast!” Liam started giggling, and Harry hung up on him without a shred of guilt.

He went back to the bedroom and picked up their clothes from the floor, pausing to slip into his boxers, moving around without making noise. The room smelled of sex and a hint of turpentine, and Harry opened the window to breathe in the fresh morning air.

“Close the fuckin’ window,” Louis grumbled, his accent more pronounced than the night before.

“Sorry.” Harry winced, shutting the window and turning to look at Louis with sudden anxiety at the thought that he might regret their night together and want Harry out of his flat.

Still obviously half-asleep, Louis slurred something, and it took Harry a moment to work out what he’d said. He found the blanket Louis was asking for in the closet, and threw it over the small lump on the bed.

“Thanks, Harry,” Louis said, voice soft and muffled as he burrowed beneath the covers, pulling the blanket up to his nose.

Harry couldn’t help but smile, stupidly relieved and hopelessly endeared.

There weren’t oranges or bacon or flour, but he whipped up an omelette and some toast while he waited for the kettle to boil. He was scavenging for a pair of mugs for the tea when he heard Louis padding down the corridor towards the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” Louis asked in a hushed voice, sounding torn between awe and confusion, standing at the entrance of the kitchen.

Harry bit his knuckle after setting down the mugs on the counter, transfixed at the sight of Louis with his tousled hair, in nothing but his pants and a worn grey T-shirt that was too big on him.

“Breakfast?” Harry managed to get out after a moment.

Louis went up to him without a word and held onto Harry’s hips for balance as he stood on his tiptoes to bring their lips together. “You’re unbelievable,” he said when they separated.

Harry placed his hands on Louis’ waist, rubbing his sides over the tee shirt, to keep him close; Louis was sleep-warm, and so beautiful, and Harry didn’t want to let go.

“You ask, I deliver.” Harry grinned.

“I asked for breakfast in bed.” Louis gave him another peck before walking over to the cupboard. He cradled the box of tea in his arms as he turned back to Harry. “But I’ll let it pass because I don’t have a tray.”

Harry cackled, the butterflies in his stomach resurfacing at the smile Louis had on his face while watching Harry laugh, and which lingered even as he prepared the tea.

“How do you take it, love?” Louis asked as he poured a dash of milk into his mug.

Harry came up behind him and bent over to rest his chin on Louis’ shoulder. He couldn’t resist wrapping an arm around Louis’ chest. “I’ll wake you up with pancakes in bed next time. Promise.”

Louis ducked his head, and his shoulders hunched a little when he giggled. “You do talk some shit, Harry.”

“Hey!” Harry protested. “I mean it.”

Louis turned around and leaned back against the counter, biting his lip and shaking his head as he looked up at Harry.

“You seem very sure of getting me into bed a second time,” he said, and caught Harry by surprise when he twisted his nipple all of a sudden.

Harry giggled even as he squirmed, but didn’t step back, and instead held Louis’ hand still against his chest.

“I’m feeling optimistic about my chances, yeah.” Harry’s mouth curled.

Louis huffed. “There’s no need for that shit eating grin, Harold.”  

But he tilted his head up, and wrapped his hand around the back of Harry’s neck to bring him in for a kiss.

 

Harry did get Louis back in bed again– ‘in record time’ as he told Louis with a smug grin. And later that afternoon, on the train back to his flat, he shot his blind date a text: ' _Harvey here. From the bottom of my heart: thank you for not showing up.'_


End file.
